Unspoken
by EEstelle
Summary: Despite everything they'd been through, there were three words that Roy Mustang had never said. Somehow, words had never seemed enough when it came to Riza. But while visiting the Elrics following the war, a perfect moment and an unexpected conversation presented themselves, and Winry Rockbell was determined to change his mind... Oneshot. Royai-centric fluff with some Edwin.


**A/N:** Hello! So, I'm really not sure how comprehensive my summary was, but hopefully you know where this is going. I came up with this story after watching the series for the first time (love it, by the way- I'm still kind of in shock), but it was inspired by the scene in which Edward is talking to Riza about the war and she assumes he loves Winry. Just for the heck of it, I created this, which is my take on what would happen if, following the events of the main series, Roy ended up talking with Winry about Riza. Don't worry, don't worry, there'll be some actual Roy/Riza interaction in here too, and I'm honestly a bit embarrassed by the romantic fluff towards the end. I have the unfortunate habit of writing mostly bittersweet stories, so pure, innocent romance is a stretch of frightening proportions for me. That being said, I'm going to be a typical authors and ask that you please read and review- I'd love to know just how cheesy my take on fluff really is, and if I've still unintentionally made it sad in some way. (Haha, I don't think so, but what can I say?) Oh! and one more thing- I am very new to this fandom, so if I made any egregious errors, please tell me. Anywho, thank you, my dearest readers, and wishing you a magnificent week!

-Echo

(PS- I'm basing this on the events of FMA:B, in case that clarifies anything.)

 **Unspoken**

Roy Mustang had forgotten the lieutenant could laugh like that, with her mouth stretched in a pearly smile and soft crinkles etched in the corners of her copper eyes. For as long as he could remember, they'd had too many other priorities to keep laughter on the list. That had become particularly true recently, ever since the self-proclaimed "Father" had reached his radar, leaving him little to be happy about. But Father and his homunculi were finished now, and Mustang didn't think he'd ever seen such an extraordinary group of people look as contented as the survivors did. With his own obsidian eyes, which were still growing accustomed to the light after what was only a few weeks (but which felt like an eternity) of blindness, the soon-to-be fuhrer watched with a smile as anarchy claimed the room.

"Ed! What did I tell you about being careful with that leg! You can't just go fighting everyone with my automail and ruining it! I thought you were done with this kind of reckless stupidity after-!" blurted a young woman as she jumped from a kitchen stool. A scowling boy, (or, Mustang realized with a start, a young man,) yelled over her as he hobbled through the door on the wiry stump of a metal leg.

"Shut up, Winry! I get it already! Hey, ouch, geez! Aren't you worried about breaking the automail when you're throwing that damn wrench at me?!"

"Arg!" exclaimed the girl, waving another tool from her toolbox at him, one even larger than the wrench he'd had to duck to avoid. "You. Are. Such. A. Little-"

"LITTLE?!" Ed squawked, glaring down at her so they were nose to nose. "Hey, who're you calling 'little,' pipsqueak! I'm taller than you now, you know!"

"PIPSQUEAK?! PIPSQUEAK?! You wish, Edward. Just wait 'til I get Al in here, we'll see what he's got to say about this-"

"Some things never change," whispered a softer voice, causing Mustang to turn his attention from the episode across the kitchen back to the woman in the seat next to him. Though she was no longer laughing, she still bore a faint pink hue and a lopsided grin as she took a sip of her coffee at the same moment that he took a sip of his.

"Fullmetal could be a hundred years old and he'd still be the same kid," the colonel snorted, running a hand through his dark hair. The lieutenant sighed.

"After all he's been through, Colonel, I'd say that's a blessing-"

"Won't you two knock it off?!" bellowed Mustang suddenly as a utility knife sliced the tips off of the woman's blonde bangs. A wave of anger washed over him to see the blade gleaming so close to the pale scar already found on her neck. Ed and Winry, both bright red in the face, turned to glare at him and as if on cue, began hurtling insults his way.

The lieutenant merely took a long swig of her coffee and stood up, laying her hand on Mustang's shoulder in a gentle reminder for him to stay seated, and brushed past him. With a knowing glance at the colonel, her voice cut through the chaos as she addressed Ed.

"I need to speak with you and Al," she said, in a tone that (incredibly) convinced him to snap his mouth shut. "Do you mind if we go outside? _Now_ ," she emphasized. "No, not Winry. Just you and me."

It wasn't a request, but it was posed in just such a way that Ed couldn't refuse, so after a moment of staring at her in agitation, he acquiesced. The two made for the door, and the lieutenant's hand was on the doorknob when out of impulse, the colonel called out.

"Don't be long, Lieutenant. I've got that business to attend to with the acting fuhrer tomorrow afternoon. The train leaves at two and I can't afford to be late."

The woman paused, then turned and nodded. "Of course, Colonel. I'll be back soon."

One more eyeroll passed between Ed and Winry before the lieutenant and Fullmetal walked out. The spiky golden locks that escaped from her bun waved in the light breeze until the door clicked shut.

"We weren't really fighting, you know," said Winry once they were out of earshot, the long blonde frizz that framed her face like a halo finally drifting down now that the static seemed to have left the room. Despite himself, Mustang chuckled amusedly.

"No? You don't say."

"Ed and I always talk like this. Keeps him on his toes. Reminds him that just because he's some famous alchemist, that doesn't mean I'm just some dumb… some dumb…"

The spark in her blue eyes dimmed a little bit as she seemed to realize what she'd said, reminded again that while Edward had been an alchemist, he couldn't perform alchemy any more. She'd been surprised by how well he'd taken it, but that wasn't to say it wasn't hard on him. She'd never cared much about the science herself, but it hurt her to see his frustration on bad days.

"Something wrong?" asked Mustang quietly, draining the last few drops from his mug.

"It's nothing," said Winry. She got the feeling he understood more than he was letting on, but was grateful when he didn't press the issue. "So, Colonel," she recovered with a change of topic. "Ed tells me you're going to be fuhrer. It's gotta be tough jumping into such a big job after all this mess. Especially since they just let you out of the hospital."

Mustang shrugged, poured himself another mug-full, and drained this one in under a minute flat.

"Keeps me busy," he said. "Someone has to get this country moving, and I'd rather not give another 'King Bradley' the chance."

"Riza says your foreign policies, particularly where Ishval is concerned, are going to revolutionize the world. Is it true? Are you really going to do the things she believes you'll do? Are you the person she thinks you are?"

He stopped mid-pour on yet a third cup of coffee and glanced up as the girl took the seat across from him, prying the coffee pot from his hands.

"You know, for a guy planning on running our country, it's terrifying how much you remind me of Ed."

Mustang blinked. "...Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, you're not nearly as much of a hothead- no pun intended- but from what I've gathered from Lieutenant Hawkeye, you seem to be every bit as infuriating as he is."

The colonel quirked an eyebrow and stood up, sensing danger in the conversation in much the same way as he sensed an enemy in battle, and though he didn't know what it was yet, he figured he'd better leave before he had to find out.

"I don't know where you're going with this, but I also need to speak with the Elric brothers before we leave. If you could just tell the lieutenant should she return before I do where I've-"

"Listen up, Mustang! And quit changing the subject, because this is important," Winry snapped. Mustang ignored her, glancing out the window to scan the bright blue-green collision on the horizon that marked the early afternoon.

"We really should be going, but thank you for your hospitality, Miss Rockbell," he continued, unperturbed. "I can't thank you enough-"

"You're not going anywhere until we talk about this, Colonel Mustang. I thought Riza was exaggerating, but you really are clueless, aren't you? Don't you _see_?"

Mustang stopped with one arm through the sleeve of his navy coat and turned to her, trying to keep the spark of irritation from igniting in his coal-black eyes. Slowly, he braced his arms against the table and tried to keep his voice steady. He already knew he was going to regret asking.

"What is it I'm supposed to see?"

"I wasn't- I didn't- I didn't mean to…" stuttered Winry, frozen to the spot so firmly that not even the flame alchemist's death glare could melt her out.

The colonel couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "A few weeks of blindness was enough for me."

"But… but… still!" said Winry, breaking the ice so forcefully that the cracks created deep ravines in her forehead as she scowled at him stubbornly. "You're driving that poor woman crazy, and don't even try to tell me you don't love her, because I've seen that look a thousand times when Edward looks at me!"

Her eyes went suddenly wide, wider than they'd ever been before, so that the two bright blue lakes looked like identical oceans above the red desert storming across her cheeks.

"And why would I deny it?" he said, not looking at her, but surprising her by donning a slight shade of pink. Is _that_ what this was all about?

"What- you- what do you-?"

"Love is only human," he added quickly, rhythmically flexing his arms to relieve stress, buying him time to figure out what exactly this busybody girl was after. "There are many things, and many people that I care for. I love my home and my friends. I love my work and the gym and don't even get me started on my bed. I love Amestris. So it's only natural that I love Riza…" he coughed. "The lieutenant, that is."

"You… you…" she stared. "You bastard!" she glowered, and without warning, a screwdriver slammed into the side of his head.

"Hey! Ouch! You'd be a in a hell of a lot of trouble if I reported you for this."

"Oh, go burn in hell, see what I care! I was wrong before; you're exactly like Ed," she snapped as he rubbed the bruise blooming on his temple. Winry folded her arms across her chest and stomped to retrieve the screwdriver, the utility knife, a few other unnamed nicknacks, and practically her entire collection of wrenches. Grunting in exasperation, Mustang crouched down to retrieve a hammer from under the table and spotted a second screwdriver hidden behind the door. Pouring yet another cup of coffee, which Winry immediately confiscated, he sat back in his chair and brooded.

"Just answer me this," the blonde said after a few moments of silence. "If you answer my questions, and I'm wrong about you two, I won't bother you again. If I'm right- which I am- ...well, then."

His response was more of a growl than a word, but Winry decided to take it as a go ahead.

"When Father was trying to make you a sacrifice, and Lieutenant Hawkeye almost died, why didn't you give in and save her? And what would you have done if things had gone wrong and she'd been killed?"

The feeling he experienced at the memory was molten lead seeping into his body, comparable to a fire stronger than even he could handle, burning him into something even less than ash. But he wasn't about to reveal that to this girl, or anyone, for that matter. Who did she think she was, anyway? But if he kept silent, that would be answer enough.

"She gave me a signal. She looked up to tell me we had allies. I've known her long enough to recognize that look anywhere. And if she'd died…" he fought to keep his deep voice steady. "I doubt I would have lived long enough to mourn her."

"For a flame alchemist, that's pretty cold."

"Listen, Winry," he said, reaching over the table to grab her arm before she could get up to leave. He had to make her understand. "I trust my lieutenant, with my life. And more importantly- I trust her with hers."

Where only seconds ago disdain and anger had clouded the young woman's pale face, a triumphant smirk instantly appeared. "So you do love her."

"Were you even listening to what I said?" he shouted as Winry batted her eyelashes at him. Why was he even trying to explain it to this kid?

"I understood you perfectly. This is exactly what I was talking about when I compared you to Ed. You can't see any more than he can that sometimes there are more obvious signals than three stupid little words." There was a lull, and the two stared at each other.

He mumbled. "...You can stop looking so smug about it." It was a lame retort, but he found he couldn't find the words to say anything else.

Gradually, Winry's gleeful expression faded back to normal, and then… became almost _sad_. She whispered, surprising him, "And you can stop acting like the pain is just going to go away."

"Do you, by chance, have multiple personalities?" he asked arbitrarily, using the distraction to buy him a moment and to confiscate the coffee pot again.

"Arg! Nobody asked you!" she said, taking the empty pot, refilling it with the necessary ingredients, and slamming it on the stove once more.

Breathing deeply while waiting for both of their ears to stop ringing, Winry thought back on the past few years and couldn't help but wonder if it hadn't been so much longer. While so many had searched, researched, and killed for a shot at immortality, the girl caught in the eye of a hurricane felt as if she'd already spent an eternity where she stood. There were so many things she had wanted to say, as if she had something to prove. And not just to Mustang. She thought Ed loved her. But she still felt the urge to prove it to herself. The truth was, she was tired of watching Mustang and Hawkeye dance around each other like nothing had happened in the underground tunnels during the battle, one foot in a relationship and one foot out. If not even these two could make it work after all these years, what chance did she and hyperactive Edward Elric have? _Stupid, infuriating, irresistible Ed_ , she mused wistfully. ...Wait, since when had this become about her?

Before she could open her mouth or even think what to say, the colonel's soothing voice cut through her inner dialogue.

"The truth is, Winry, I've known for a long time that it's not going to go away. This isn't my first war, and while I'm hopeful, I doubt it's going to be my last. You're right, I do care for the lieutenant," he admitted. "But it's not like that."

"But-" she began to protest.

"Hold on for a second." He extended his hands. "I don't know where you get your sense of authority, young lady, but I think you've got more of Fullmetal's personality than you'd think," he smirked. Despite herself, Winry laughed, and the colonel joined her. The reverberation bouncing between them and along the walls settled him though it lasted for less than a minute.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye and I aren't like you and Edward, Winry," he said finally, rolling his empty mug in his fingers and sending a few scattered drips over the wooden grain of the tabletop. "You two are young. You've got your whole lives ahead of you. I wish I could say that was the first time I came close to losing my lieutenant, but that's the danger we face in our profession. It isn't that I didn't want to save her, or that I wouldn't have made the sacrifice if it was completely up to me. But she wouldn't have wanted that any more than I did, and if I can't trust her to do what's necessary to protect others and herself, what chance do we have in this world?"

"So you _were_ going to let her sacrifice herself!" Winry accused angrily. "You were going to sit back and watch her be killed!"

"No," Mustang looked down at his hands, the pain strikingly visible in his abyssal eyes. He clenched his fists. "I was giving her the choice to survive."

"The choice?" the young woman said shrilly. This guy was unbelievable. "The _choice_?! What kind of a choice is that?" The handle of the mug Mustang was holding shattered, littering the table, floor, his lap and hair in chips of porcelain glass.

"Living is always a choice, Miss Rockbell. It goes against the natural state of things. Death has plenty of help, but it can happen on its own. Maybe it's harsh, but the universe doesn't care what happens to you. If you're not willing to fight for your existence…" he trailed off, breathing heavily. "You have to be willing to die."

He didn't know why he was so worked up about this or where the sentiments were coming from, but he hadn't been this upset in a quite awhile. The lieutenant usually would have tempered him by now, and come to think of it, she'd been gone for a considerable amount of time. That in itself wasn't reason enough to worry, but he had to fight down the desire to find out where she'd run off to.

Winry stared at him, dumbfounded, as his chair squeaked back accompanied by the tinkling glass as it showered from his person to the ground. She didn't have the wherewithal to help as he brushed himself off and retrieved a broom and dustpan from the cabinet.

After a few moments, Winry got a cloth and cleaned the largest remaining piece of the mug and the residue from the table, noting a single droplet of blood that had soaked into the porous wood. The broken glass had apparently cut the colonel and he hadn't noticed; he was accustomed to pain. She followed a few more drops along the chair leg and wiped a larger smear from between the cracks in the tile floor.

Winry didn't know what she was going to say before she said it, but the words slipped over her tongue before she could contain them, and the instant they emerged, she knew she was asking for whatever consequence they gave her.

"Did you know that if it had come to it, Riza would have willingly died to protect you?"

Dead silence. Had the lieutenant really said that? And suddenly, in that moment, Roy Mustang knew exactly what to say as the truth hit him squarely in the face.

"She's too intelligent to do something so reckless. So selfish. She would never be careless enough to let something as insignificant as that stop her from continuing on. It had be her decision, but I knew what she would choose, and I trusted her judgement. I may be an ignorant fool, but I promise you this much. My lieutenant knows I'm useless in this life without her."

He would never know how Winry would have responded, for just then, there was an explosive roar outside. His hand was in his pocket in less than a second, and it emerged bearing a white glove crested with a transmutation circle. Though the blonde woman was closer, the colonel beat her to the door, throwing it open so forcefully that one of the two young men on the threshold shrieked and fell flat on his tailbone. A high-pitched squeal within the house made Mustang wonder if his trade-off for regaining his sight was going to be the loss of his hearing.

"Edward!" bellowed Winry, pushing past the colonel to lock eyes with a startled Al, and shifting her attention to the brother he'd been helping inside. The brother who currently yelped at her from the ground. "WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU DO TO YOUR LEG?!"

If the automail had been wires before, it was a fried mass of burnished black and silver now, and the girl looked like she'd lost her mind. Veins twitching furiously, she reached down and tried to yank Ed up by his collar, but it did little more than make him shriek and rub the back of his neck since he was heavier than she was now. Mustang cleared his throat and gently, but adamantly, nudged the girl back into the house, sighing as he crouched down to help Alphonse half-carry his brother indoors. When he stood up, bending just slightly under the weight, he met the gaze of a latecomer. He raised a dark eyebrow at her, to which she responded with a pointed glance that clearly said, "There's only so much I can do, sir." The corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly, and she rolled her eyes.

It was incredible to him, and yet natural, that they could communicate so perfectly without any words at all. Though his and Winry's conversation had been unceremoniously interrupted, her words burrowed back into his mind immediately after they'd laid a red-faced, raging Edward next to a raging, red-faced Winry on the couch. As a harmony of screams and metallic clanging filled the room, making the colonel almost wonder whether she was fixing the leg with the sharp movement of her tools or destroying it further, he felt a presence to his right. The lively warmth of someone familiar settled over him, drowning out the chaos of the re-emergent fight.

"Should we go, sir?" The lieutenant said casually, stepping forward so that her hair shone gold in his periphery. The colonel folded his arms, watching as Alphonse, (who was much smaller than he was used to being now that he had his real body,) attempted to pacify his brother and childhood friend.

"Are you going to tell me what happened out there?" he asked, matching her tone.

"Honestly, Colonel, I don't think you want to know."

Mustang chuckled, finally turning to face her so that the sunlight from the window sparkled in his irises. Hesitantly, Hawkeye reached up to brush at his black fringe, raining him in glass like glitter that, (in his hasty clean up of the mug,) he'd apparently missed.

The angle of the sun was just such that the same glow that illuminated his orbs radiated around her, framing her in light so purely that he couldn't help but stare. For once, the luminescence was so intense that though he looked, he couldn't see the white, hairline scar tracing her neck in a painful reminder of what she'd been through- what they'd been through- over a lifetime, and particularly throughout the past year. But he'd trusted her to endure it, and miraculously, here they stood a foot apart, alive at the end of it all.

He did love the lieutenant, just like he loved his bed, his comfort, his country. He loved her like he loved a training session and a long run and the relief he felt when the dawn came at the close of a battle on a cold night. He loved her like he loved his friends, all those whom he had joked beside and fought beside, all those whom he had saved and whom he had lost, and he loved her as the soldier next to whom he had suffered. But the way he felt about her under the calloused layers of skin that caused him to appear as if he were made of stone, he knew it was so much more than that. More than time and pain, and trust and death and love. He had never told her. Had never really expressed how he felt about her. Had never said those three stupid little words. Despite the passing years, he'd kept his mouth shut, because nothing had ever been enough.

Was everything that Winry said about them true? Had his guarded affection and unconventional way of protecting this woman left her thinking that he would have abandoned her to die for his sake, bleeding out alone? Were his feelings and intentions as hidden to her as they were to the rest of the world? Didn't his beloved lieutenant already _know_?

"Is something wrong?" said the lieutenant, concern tinging her copper orbs as his hand reached towards her, then dropped to his side. He wanted to lie, but he'd always thought she could read him better than she could read a battlefield. This was the first time he could remember doubting that in the slightest.

"I'm fine," he said, clenching and unclenching his fists in the same rhythm he so often used, noticing for the first time that it coincided with her breathing. She studied him questioningly, then nodded.

"...Of course, Colonel."

She didn't buy it. She knew.

As much as she could read him, he'd thought he could read her, too. But although she'd said those three words countless times, he'd always been too busy staring straight ahead to look into her soul and read what they meant.

The doubt was gone. The darkness was gone. The ongoing turmoil between Ed and Winry and Al faded, and only one reality remained in the room as he watched her say what she'd said time and time again. War was a thing of the past and of the future. Fear of loss, strength for the sake of being strong, and living for the sake of avoiding death would just have to wait for them. The philosopher's stone may have healed him of his physical blindness, but it was only then, as understanding caught up to him from the memories buried in his past, that the man truly _saw_.

Mustang took a step, bridging the distance between them and inclining his head, breathing in the scent of pollen and springtime which adorned the breeze that still clung to her skin, his mouth securing hers in a gentle kiss. Before he could pull away, he felt her rise up, her arms entwining around his neck, and without thought, his own larger hands wrapped around her waist. It was intoxication in its purest form, free of the complexity that had reinforced the barriers that his past guilt and future aspirations had placed upon his mind. Slowly, their lips broke contact, and Hawkeye, who'd been tiptoeing to reach, released his neck but pulled his collar so that his forehead remained pressed to hers.

"I don't think I've ever told you this," Mustang breathed, his fingers wound through her hair, his lips tingling from the kiss. "But I love you, Riza," he whispered, although his deep voice still resonated as she planted a warm peck to his cheek.

Riza smiled, resting her head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat, thinking but not minding that he wasn't acting himself at all. His pulse thumping gently in her ears, she whispered back; "Yes," thinking of everything he'd done for her, everything he'd done for _them_. She'd been longing for this moment, but the safety of his arms only amplified what she'd already felt from him. "Yes, Roy." She nestled into his neck, humming. "You did..."

Of course, the moment couldn't last. If the wrench hadn't come so close to decapitating them both, he wouldn't have noticed nor cared. Winry's mouth was wider than her eyes for once, gaping at the microscopic hole between them where the tool she'd thrown had just butted in. Ed took a few extra seconds to stop yelling and followed her line of sight. When they registered what they'd interrupted, both he and Al burned a flamboyant shade of red.

Mustang was fairly certain he glowed a deeper hue of scarlet than either of them as his grip slackened, but Riza, though slightly flushed, simply laughed.

"It's about time!" exclaimed Winry, finally joining the pink parade but in a pleasant sort of way. She smirked at the colonel, but Riza embraced him again to keep him from reacting and to stop him from breaking free. As Edward started to babble, and as Winry told him off for _still_ being so immature, (though Riza had a sinking suspicion by the way he watched his friend's mouth that he was wondering what would happen if he tried something similar,) the colonel took his lieutenant's hand and the two quietly snuck out.

The train was late, but Mustang didn't mind as they waited on the bench, neither of them making a move to release their interlocked hands. When a few minutes dragged into an hour, Riza went as far as to rest her head on his shoulder and he rested his chin on her head. It was some time later that Mustang finally caught sight of a smokestack, and beneath the glazed light of the late afternoon, he glanced down at the woman who hadn't said anything in awhile, only to find her copper eyes closed, her mouth upturned peacefully as she slept. Rather than wake her, Roy gazed at Riza with his own obsidian orbs, his thumb discretely rising to trace the line of her face. She was so beautiful when she was happy, and though he knew he would never be able to protect her from everything, he would do everything in his power to make her stay hopeful and safe.

The whistle blew, and the colonel took the warning, nodding in gratitude to the boy who offered to load their bags. He had to admit he was ready to go home, though he was sure he'd miss the lush countryside and their friends soon. Effortlessly, the man lifted her into his arms, and trundled her onto the train. The boxcar lurched, and Mustang instinctively pulled her into his lap to keep her from falling over. He mused, smiling through the window as the train pulled away, brushing her bangs from her forehead as he watched the green fields and scattered houses flickering by. He wondered how much his world would change before he and his lieutenant made it back to the place where something old and something new had been kindled in their lives.


End file.
